Jedi Origin: The Ossus Order
by Shadow of Link
Summary: Thousands of years before Episode One, Bal'a'rin crashlands in his ship the Sky Walker, on a planet known as Ossus. A mysterious energy surrounds this world, as if a force is drawing both him and his shipment of new weapons research to the people here.
1. Prologue

**Jedi Origin  
**The Ossus Order

Prologue  
  
A _very, very,_ long time ago...  
In a galaxy far, far away…

Out ofthe pitch-black background of space, empty and clear save for tiny pinpricks of starlight, a small star-cruiser dropped out of Hyperspace and materialised in the space above Ossus. Like a flaming dart it came hurtling towards the unsuspecting planet; reducing speed rapidly, but still coming in at incredible speed. Such a sight had not been seen in living memory of the inhabitants of the planet, a bolt illuminating the night sky with a streak of yellow and brilliant white, like a star fallen from the heavens above.

A disturbed, broken sound crackled through radio speakers, and sent electrical circuits into disarray, "_…bzzt…_Jay-Four! Report!…_bzzt_… happening…_bzzt_… lost control… Hyperspace lost…_bzzt_… report!_…bzzt…_"

Just seconds later, the ship was flying closer and closer to the ground, having blazed around the planet at hypersonic speed. An electrical storm engulfed it, crackling wild lightning from the clouds and sending thunderous reverberations down to the ground for the split second it was above a region.

Again, a broadcasted radio signal echoed through the planet's electrical system, "_…bzzt…w_hat is this energy that's interfering with the ship? What do you mean you don't know! Natural native energy? What the burning blaze do you mean by that! _…bzzt…_"

Closer, closer, slowing down to a thousand megaspans a _rotation_. Eight hundred, five hundred, four, three, two, one…

"…_bzzt…_Brace for impact! Oh, who the burn-fuel am I talking to? I'm the only one on this scrap metal barge _…bzzt…_ Jay-Four, reverse thrusters full power now! What? Look, I don't care if they're all ready burned, make them work you oil sapping bucket of bolts! _…bzzt…_Brace! Route all power to emergency landing shields! _…bzzt…_Oh, shalop! we're coming in too fast! I always knew I'd die on one of these pieces of sh-! Arghh!"

An ear-splitting bang rocked across a desert plain, and shock waves burst out in all directions from the epicentre of the crash. The electrical storm crackled out, and the disturbance on the radio airwaves ended. Everything fell still and calm once again. Blissful quiet once again filled the air.

A new dawn sun was rising over the scene of the wreckage, casting long shadows across the sand of the dusty, hill-riddled terrain.

A hand smashed through the front viewing panel of the cruiser, and shattered the no-longer energy-reinforced glass windshield. Moving slowly, the figure of a human male clambered out of the wreck, rolling over the hull and dropping two spans to the hard ground and hitting the floor with a loud thud. Slowly, with a hand to his aching back he tore off his gloves and tossed his helmet down into the golden-brown sand. Surveying his location he grunted, and punched the wing of his ship, the apparently very ineptly named _Sky Walker_.

"Burn me, I should just have died!… what in the name of fuk'ral nine is going on?" He scanned the desert around him, and gazed blankly at the rising yellow sun. Then, with a hopeless groan, he collapsed in the sand and buried his head in his hands. "Well, this is just great! Now I can starve to death instead, I suppose."

A series of bleeps and clicks echoed from the ship in the Astro-Droid language of J4-T9.

"Oh, marvellous! And I have _it_ for company too! Burn me for a cursed fool."

**……**

…and so, as the one-day-to-be _Great Founder_ buried all his hopes deep in the sand of the world of Ossus... the first chapter in the exalted and unending history of the Jedi Order was written...


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Unlacing his shirt to cool himself off, Bal'a'rin - of Tian Trading Route City Twelve, Tian Three, the Tian System - climbed to his feet and dusted himself down. The sky above was ocean blue, cloudless, with streaks of orange peeking above distant mountains where the sun was steadily rising. No life in the air, no life on the earth; just rolling sand hill as far as his eyes could see.

He had briefly glimpsed the surface of this planet as Sky Walker burned through the sky; it was green land and blue seas in most parts, but for the last hundred miles in the direction he had come there was nothing but dry desert, and not a lake to be seen. There could be desert for just as far ahead of him now as well, or twice as far, or ten times further if his bad luck held consistent.

After some time laying in the sand, drifting in and out of consciousness it seemed, Bal'a'rin had decided not to resign himself to death by starvation just yet, but to see what he could perhaps do to get himself out of there; or at the very least, to find a quicker and less painful way to die.

He slung his bag across his shoulders, and walked a few paces from the large crashed ship, before trotting up a low rise to get a better vantage on his surroundings. Not much to look at really; just a sparse water-forsaken land, with an occasional thicket of spiky brown plants or sudden swooping chasm. He ran his hand back through his shaggy brown hair, ruffling it to shake it free of its helmet-moulded shape. His blue-grey eyes shone with an overpowering look of both confusion and being hopelessly lost. Confused, at why his ship had suddenly dropped out of Hyperspace; confused about the incredibly slim odds that he had re-entered standard space so narrowly above a planet; confused that he had survived a crash that should have been more than fatal; and lost, because… well, where the shalop was he?

His radio clicked, and he unclipped it from his belt, bringing the mouthpiece under his chin. "What is it, Jay-Four?"

The following series of clicks and beeps may have made no sense to some people, but to Bal, it made perfect sense.

Are you going to get me out of this wreckage? Asked J4.

"Are your navigation systems working?" Bal asked in response, knowing the answer before it came.

Navigation systems failing to respond.

"Then not yet, Jay. You just hang in there, buddy." He laughed to himself, and sat down on the hill.

Humans, it muttered, in its own droid way, and cut the transmission.

He turned around to face the ship, and looked at it dismally. By occupation he was a Trade Cruiser pilot, operating primarily from his home world of Tian Three. His ship, Sky Walker, was property of the trade organization he worked for. Well, if he was ever found now, he was as good as dead when his bosses got hold of him.

The ship was about one hundred spans in length, and about twenty spans high. Cylindrical in shape, with long narrow wings, with a long cockpit that drew forward into a point, where the front panel was now shattered. That was the least of the damage though; the entire ship had cracked in half. The back half of the ship lay some way away up the desert, and debris and lost cargo filled the space between. Bal couldn't help but chuckle to himself quietly. A fine mess he had got himself into. To think, one hour ago – by standard galactic time – he had been napping as Sky Walker tore through Hyperspace, only to be ripped out seconds later, and sent in a flaming wreck to this damned place.

Now, coming to the harsh reality that he was on an unknown planet, where he could be killed at any moment by some unknown foul beast, or sacrificed by some unknown savages to an unknown foul god, he decided to carefully consider his options. After twenty seconds of concentrated thought - interrupted for eight of those seconds to poke and play in the sand – he decided his options were four-fold.

One; salvage what supplies he could from the Sky Walker and start walking through the desert in a random direction, in the vague hope that he would reach civilisation before having to resort to drinking his own waste and eating his own limbs.

Two; salvage what supplies he could find from the Sky Walker and set up camp here. Then begin ritually praying that this planet is inhabited by _at least_ a level three civilization, with both the means to track his ship and send out a rescue party quickly. Of course, ideally they should be level five, aware of other life in the galaxy – he didn't want to have to start explaining that he wasn't a murderous alien set to kill them all. Or worse yet, a heavenly being for them to worship.

Three; salvage what _alcoholic_ supplies he could find from the Sky Walker, and drown his sorrows, whilst having a good chat about old times with Jay-Four. Always fun. Jay-Four always started to get far more agreeable after he had a few pints of Roostan. He himself, of course, not Jay-Four.

Four; salvage what weapons he could find from the Sky Walker and kill himself. Thereby not having to waste his time on the other options.

He picked up a smooth stone from the sand and turned it over in the fingers of his right hand. Which option to take? Three was very tempting, although Four wasn't without it's charms either.

In the end though, he opted to take option Two. He didn't much fancy killing himself right now, and option One of going out into the desert would just be a slower version of the suicidal option Four. And whilst option Three of getting wasted sounded like good fun, he supposed that his ship wouldn't actually have any alcohol on it anyway. A nice thought, but just a fantasy.

Hopefully someone had spotted him arrive, and would be on their way to rescue him. Yes, he'd get out of here eventually. But what kind of society was he going to find himself pulled into? They better have spacecraft capable of Hyperspeed

When he stopped and thought about it though, he wasn't actually totally sure what he had been transporting anyway; he had been loaded up at Tian Three and sent on his way. Heck, he wasn't even sure where he was supposed to be going; Jay-Four had been programmed to take him to his destination on autopilot. A pre-determined flight plan and destination; he was just the courier he supposed. One thing was for certain though, he was certainly _not_ meant to be _here_.

What he did know was that he was transporting a shipment of new weapons research. A Tianer weapons research laboratory had paid him to ship their new product to their financiers on another world. Their research was _very_ important apparently, but supposedly using a non-conspicuous _low-grade_ ship was safer than hiring a high-grade battle cruiser; something about attracting less attention, and running less risk of being highjacked.

That was nonsense, in his own opinion; but - thought Bal to himself proudly, surveying the wreck of Sky Walker with a twisted smile - he was happy to say that he had definitely _not_ been highjacked.

He stood up, dusted down his back, and paced back down the hill to the ship. As he did so, he reached into the shoulder bag containing his supplies and pulled out a red-brown dust-cloak. He fastened it to the small buckles on his jacket, and straightened it out behind himself. He jogged around the side of the ship to where the side panels and roof stopped short, torn off in a jagged manner where the ship had given way to the pressure of thes impact. Hot steel and fibres were seared black all around the large body of the ship, the dense internal framework held the cylindrical shape in tact, but was broken off suddenly where the outer shell had also been severed. It really had been torn totally in half.

He climbed inside through the gaping hole and tried to ignore the smells of burning and frying metals, the stench was terrible but what could he do? It was dark inside, where no sunlight could reach. He made his way along the white walled corridor of the ship, clambering over collapsed pipes and ducking underneath partially caved ceilings. It was very dark indeed, as the lights were not on; some were clearly broken, and sprayed showers of hot sparks at him. "Jay-Four," Bal said, raising the small radio to his mouth again, "are the lights fried?"

All power was diverted to the emergency crash shields, clicked Jay-Four, this includes lighting. Analysing ship lighting. Systems analysis shows some lights are still operational.

"Well then, turn them on!"

There was a pause, then the beeping continued, Regretfully, the power generator is in the other half of the ship. It is not possible to activate the lights.

"Then use the backup battery that runs from this half of the ship then!" Bal exclaimed into the mike, "Call yourself an Astro-Droid?"

There was another pause, then a deep whirring from beneath his feet. Some more sparks flew from the darkness of the wreck, then a number of lights flickered into life, illuminating the white panelled walls in half-light. At least now he could pick his path towards the storage bay door. Preliminary environment surveys suggest numerous possible planets that we may be on. The best match, at ninety-six percent accuracy is that this is a world named Ossus.

"Ossus, huh? Sounds depressing," he muttered dismally, "what's its civilization level?"

During the last galactic survey, Ossus was named a level two civilisation.

"Just _two_?" Bal whined, very annoyed, "Are you serious?"

Of course I am. Under the Free Development Declaration of the Second Republic, Ossus is among the worlds protected by galactic law to have no contact with the rest of the galaxy, for their own benefit; to develop at their own rate. It is likely they have advanced to level three by now, of course.

"Damned Free Development Declaration. How old is that law? It should really be updated, things have changed a lot since then." He shoved a panel that had broken away from the wall into a narrow recess, and climbed over a ruptured floor pipe, "The Second Republic didn't last long at all, and there are good reasons for it. I say we should just travel to every planet, give them Hyperspeed technology, tell them about the wider galaxy, and let them come out and enjoy the party."

Many civilisations are not ready for that sort of leap, beeped Jay-Four, in what could only be described as an arrogant tone.

"So tell me then, am I breaking the law by being here?" Bal asked, not actually caring whether he was or not.

Perhaps; the law is unclear. Our present situation is unheard of, and the Third Republic has not yet stipulated how such matters should be handled.

"Damn government." Bal reached the door to the ship's food storage room, and murmured silent thanks to the air when electronic lock admitted him. He stepped through into a small room, with only one square span of floor space, lined with shelves and walled on one side with refrigerators. "Let's see what we've got, here," he muttered quietly.

On the shelves there were a few vegetables and fruits, which he supposed he could eat if the cooking equipment was broken too. Opening the fridge, he grimaced as water spilled off the narrow shelves onto the floor. The packets of frozen foodstuffs were no longer quite so frozen. He spirits raised a little when he saw one chilled bottle of Roostan.

Snatching down the Roostan bottle and putting it inside his bag, he turned to gather what vegetables and dry-bread food he could. There was very little, and it all fit inside his one small bag. Enough to last him a few days if he rationed, but he didn't much feel like rationing really.

Stepping back out into the corridor, he scrambled through wreckage into a narrower passage, and emerged into a matching hall on the opposite side. "I'm going to have a look at what I as transporting, Jay-Four. Can you open the doors to the secure bay?"

I regret, you do not have clearance, the droid clicked through the com device, you should know this already.

"Well, yes I know that, but I don't think I'm going to be making the delivery now am I? Certainly not in _this_ ship. So at the very least I think you best let me inside."

Yes, I suppose. I'll open the doors then. beeped Jay-Four.

True to his word, the doors slid open almost instantly, revealing a large chamber. The lights flickered to life within, illuminating several sealed metal crates scattered across the store-room floor. They had been knocked down from their shelves in the crash. "So what do we have here?" he said to the air.

He knelt down beside one of the broad metal boxes, and flipped the lid open. He was disappointed to see that all that was inside was a stack of papers. Two very large stacks of papers actually, bound by a very large metal ring-bind. The front page bore the words,

_Tian Weapon Science  
__Galactic Weapons Research Program_

_Energy Rod Program_

_Study of notes,  
__Scientific analysis,  
__Construction brief,  
__Instructions on use._

"Energy Rod? What's that supposed to mean?" he shoved the crate aside idly, and pulled another closer to himself. This one had a heavier latch on it, which he struggled to open, and emblazoned on top of it in bright red letters were the words,

_Energy Rod Case  
Danger!_

_Handle with extreme care._

He flipped back the lid, and it clucked heavily against the crate behind it. Bal surveyed the contents carefully, and smiled to himself. This was more like it. He had no idea what sort of weapons these were, but he was excited. These were the only copies of this new weapon in the entire galaxy if he understood his briefing correctly, and they were all his.

The box had several levels to it, five frames stacked on top of each other. Carefully lifting them out and laying them down on the floor of the storeroom, he surveyed the weapons that were set into the protective red foam mould. Each shelf out of the crate held five of an identical construct, the energy rods he supposed. Metal cylindrical shapes, about a foot in length each, and an inch in width. There was a grip along them like handles for hands, that was just crying out to be held. Slowly, carefully, he lifted one out and gripped it in tightly clenched hands.

"Now what do I do…" he muttered, turning it over slowly. "It can't just be a heavy metal tube and- burn me, who am I talking to? I think the sand has gone to me head."

More than likely. Beeped Jay-Four.

"Damnit did I leave this thing on?" Bal flicked off his com. Then, as his hand returned to the tube, his fingers brushed lightly over a small switch.

A burst of brilliant light filled his vision, as a beam of white energy ignited from the end of the energy rod tube. In fast reflex he jerked it away from himself, expecting it to start firing beams of energy like a gun, but it did not. The radiant white beam remained, humming quietly, shining like a high-power light. It was strange that the bright beam seemed not at all blinding to his eyes.

He moved it side to side, and it hummed a little louder as he did so, as the trail of energy buzzed through the air. "Oh, wow," he whispered. He had never seen anything like this. For a fleeting second he put out a hand to touch it, but then thought better and pulled it back.

Standing up, and keeping the white beam as far away from himself as he could, he touched part of the frame of the storeroom wall with it. The beam cut through the metal like a hot knife through butter. "By the moons of Tian Six," he said quietly, "what is this thing? Its like a sword, but using harnessed energy? This is unreal." He giggled to himself like a child at the thought that he had been just going to turn these things over to someone without ever knowing what he delivered. "Jay-Four," he said quietly into his radio, "you aren't going to believe what I've found."

Is it something that's going to get me out of this wreckage, the droid blipped, in a sort of droid sarcastic tone.

"Actually," laughed Bal, swinging the energy rod blade over his head and at his sides like he did with wooden quarterstaffs as a boy, "I think it is, yes." He smiled, clambering out of the doorway, and heading along the corridor to where he guessed the droid had got itself stuck. "We'd better see if we kind find some civilization now, if only to tell _somebody_ about this thing." The blade of the energy rod hummed in agreement, as he used it to cut through some broken wall panels. All Bal could do was laugh excitedly to himself.

**……**

_…so tells how Bal'a'rin, the Great Founder of the Jedi Order, first came into contact with the weapon that would go down in history as the elegant, mighty war-hammer of his disciples and those that followed his great order._

_…may the Force be with the soul of Bal'a'rin the Skywalker, forever._


End file.
